


Are You Trying To Seduce Me?

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-03
Updated: 2006-08-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:17:51
Rating: ExplicitMature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: "She wondered, if she kept up with the banging, perhaps the image of the tall, shirt-less redhead might get off of her mind, soat leastshe'd be able to look at him without blushing and stop the very inappropriate thoughts running through her head,again."Hermione finds out that the art of seduction is not quite as simple as writing a three-foot essay about the healing properties of the aconite, for example...





	Are You Trying To Seduce Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

_Thump, thump, thump_... 

There was an odd noise coming from the Burrow's kitchen, similar to a knock, maybe. If you got close enough to the edge of the entrance to the kitchen, you'd be able to see the wooden table, with plates of vegetables and bread on it, shaking. 

_Thump, thump, thump_... 

Now, this is hardly an unusual happening. If you're any familiar with the world of magic, you might think that the thumping might be coming from a kitchen utensil, charmed to smash potatoes by itself-- or perhaps the dishes, which were being magically cleaned, were landing a little bit loudly over the table. 

_Thump, thump, thump..._

But then again, if you entered the kitchen, and if you were any familiar with the inhabitants of the Burrow, you might think that it was highly unusual to see Hermione Granger, the incredibly sensible and reasonable girl, banging her head softly every few seconds on the table. 

_Thump, thump, thump..._

After a few more seconds, she apparently came back to her senses and stopped her previous activity. After all, she had read in one of her elementary school books, most probably referring to nature science, that even the slightest smack on the head could kill quite a few brain cells, and she most definitely did not want that. 

Although, she wondered, if she kept up with the banging, perhaps the image of the tall, shirt-less redhead might get off of her mind, so _at least_ she'd be able to look at him without blushing and stop the very inappropriate thoughts running through her head. 

_Oh, great... There they come... again_ , she thought grumpily, shutting her eyes tight in hopes of banishing images of a sweaty Ron, tantalizing taking his drenched shirt off in front of her. At that image, she resumed her completely useless activity of banging her head against a hard surface. 

_Thump, thump, thump_... 

"Oh, honey," a voice came from the kitchen door that connected it with the backyard, "I hardly believe that method is going to work any better than pretending you've got allergies." 

Hermione hardly interrupted her actions to annoyingly glance at Ginny, who just couldn't stop snorting, giggling, snickering and smirking ever since she was informed of Hermione's misfortune. Ginny was rather surprised at Hermione's reaction, though. 

... 

After the Hogwarts' Express arrived at King Cross, both her brother and Hermione convinced their respective parents to let them stay with Harry until his birthday. Strangely enough, it was harder to convince Hermione's parents. Of course, Mrs. Weasley had wasted no time in reprimanding Ron about his insensitivity at thinking that Harry would have no problems with his aunt and uncle if they just arrived with him, but she was more than willing (and teary-eyed) when Ron said something about best mates and being there for each other and assuring her that after Harry's seventeenth birthday, they'd go straight to the Burrow. Dr. and Dr. Granger, though, were a little bit harder to crack. Both of them were a little bit wary about letting their only daughter stay with only her two _male_ best friends. When staying at the Burrow, they were generally calm at knowing that their girl will be sleeping in the room of the Weasley's little girl, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley assured that they will keep everyone's behavior acceptable. They trusted them completely. But the thought of Hermione, staying with Harry's relatives, of whom they knew no good deeds, with only Harry and Ron as her companions... 

After Hermione had a quick, private word with her parents when she realized they weren't budging, they agreed to let her stay, with her promise of calling or sending them a letter when they arrived and to know when they'll be moving to the Burrow. 

So, as far as Ginny knew, Hermione spent almost every waking hour with Harry and Ron for nearly a month, and apparently not even once had she caught a glimpse of either boy's physique. Such rotten luck, eh? 

_Not at all_ , Hermione thought. In fact, those days were quite marvelous, albeit a bit frustrating. Harry, Ron and Hermione stuck together, just as they promised back at Dumbledore's funeral. They researched the books Hermione had cleverly acquired for any leads as to where to look for the remaining Horcruxes. They argued, debated, and formulated theories. In fact, Hermione felt they were working on an incredible project, all three of them, as they should always be, together. 

Harry and Ron made sure, though, that their stay at the Dursleys wasn't all about work, and while the Dursleys were out of the house, (which was quite often, as they weren't very keen on spending many minutes in a house full of _freaks_ ), they enjoyed the back garden, taught Ron more about Muggle gadgets, and generally had a good time, as probably normal teenagers could. They decided to not leave the house for safety reasons, as Hermione put it, because they did not know who could be lurking in the bushes of the neighbors' gardens or around the corners. Reluctantly, Harry and Ron agreed. 

The not-so-nice part of their stay, at least for Hermione, was that the interaction between her and Ron was hardly any better than it had been last year, which is why Hermione would suddenly find herself pulling her hair or punching her pillow in frustration. Brushing of hands, secret smiles, red ears, lingering glances, yes, they were all incredibly great; even the arguments they held were rather satisfying. But Hermione now wished for more... for bolder moves, and she was just not getting any. Sometimes she will smack herself in the forehead for thinking such stupid thoughts, but after careful consideration, and reading a book, she realized that her desires were perfectly understandable. After all, she was almost eighteen, and it was completely natural that, as a grown teenager, her eyes would sometimes scan Ron's lean body, or stare at his nice, pink lips, or wonder if Ron has already have any wet dreams, and who could have been the star of such dreams... 

_Get. A. Grip,_ she would reprimand herself. Right now, it would do no good to fantasize, even if she finally knew that wondering such things was normal. She needed to concentrate. _Horcruxes, Harry, spells, counter courses, maps, where's that book about Ravenclaw? Oh, right there, next to Ron's leg... God, is that his wand in his pocket, or...? Damn. Of course it is, silly. I studied anatomy!_ His... _organ_ could not possibly be that large... could it? _He's got rather big hands and feet, and I_ have _heard what they say about men who have big hands and feet... Oh my God, Hermione! You are sick, sick, sick..._

She would groan inwardly whenever thoughts of this subject crossed her mind, and, on the exterior, she would either smack her forehead, hide behind the book she was reading, use the same book to hit her head, grit her teeth, or punch whatever object she had nearby, after making sure, of course, that it would not harm anybody or cause much of a mess. 

Harry and Ron would just stare at her oddly. Sitting at Harry's bedroom floor, they were going through the books and information they had, and ask sensibly if she was okay, although she could tell both of them just wanted to snicker at her, especially with the way Ron would bite his lip, which only resulted to a more aggravated and flustered Hermione. She would mostly say that she couldn't remember the name of a book that might have useful information, or that she forgot a special book at home or at Hogwarts, or that she once read something interesting but she couldn't remember where, or something equally lame, which guaranteed in both boys losing interest immediately. 

After that, she would once again hide behind a book and grumble, asking herself when she had turned from the sensible girl she knew she was to a... well, whatever you call a girl who just could not stop staring at a boy's body and wondering what lay underneath his clothes and fantasizing about him and her alone in a small room with soft light and a comfy-looking bed with wine-red comforters... 

_God, Hermione, you have no hope, you sick pervert,_ she would think dejectedly. 

It was ridiculous, really. Why couldn't she just get her mind out of the gutter? What in Merlin's name could she do to stop this? It was frustrating, distracting, and definitely not good for her health. She was bound to get some brain damage after all those smacks and bangs and hair-tugging. 

She tried to stop it; oh, yes, she did _try._ She brilliantly concluded that if sights such as Ron with too small and too tight shirts lying on the floor would fluster her, then images of, say, Umbridge in a swimsuit would definitely bring her back to earth and keep her mind concentrated in the task of research for Horcruxes. True, it wasn't a nice image; disgusting, really, but it did the trick... for a while. 

At first, the image she would implant on her mind to keep her cool head was Umbridge in a ridiculous pink swimsuit, but then, the image would be Umbridge in a beach, like the beautiful one she was at when in France; then, Umbridge would apparently lose a lot of weight and stretch upward, and suddenly she was replaced by a gorgeous man with tight blue swimming trunks and glistening red locks... After that, Hermione had to resume her hair-tugging and her head-smacking. 

_This is ridiculous. This is getting out of control!_

One night, while all three where sleeping in their respective beds (having enlarged Harry's bedroom to comfortably accommodate them), Hermione woke up abruptly, sweating. For a summer, the weather was very cool, most probably because of the influence of dementors, she thought, shuddering. But that night, Hermione woke up from her very first erotic dream. Which is why it's completely understandable that she was grumpy and snappy the next morning. _He just couldn't stop at occupying my mind while awake, could he? Now he invades my dreams!_ _Arrogant prat_... 

But the very next night, she stayed awake long after her two best friends started snoring. She just lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking, because she was rather good at it... 

Her two loved best friends and herself were about to embark in an incredibly dangerous mission. Just the three of them, watching each other's backs, supporting each other's backs, and putting all their abilities to use. They would research to find the remaining Horcruxes, plan how they'll destroy them, and finally, face the evil that had caused all of them pain and tears and anger and broken hearts. Harry just said so a few nights ago, when they lost track of time and they stayed up until midnight. By the light of a candle, he told Ron and her, with his jaw clenched and a hard stare, that it is their lives they're risking, and that if he could have it his way, he would simply just send the two of them away with the rest of the Weasleys and all of those he cared for to a place where no evil could find them. After a few seconds of silence, Ron snorted and said that he had as much chance at keeping them away from him as he had of controlling that mess in his head that he called hair, which was nigh impossible. Hermione just smiled softly and took his hand in hers. 

"You're stuck with us, Harry." 

Contrasting the serious matter they were talking about, Harry cracked a bright smile which made him look the more handsome, and said that still, he would not have it any other way. 

Hermione would do anything for either of them. She often got teary-eyed when she thought of the time their lives have been mended together, back in first year, when they first met in the train. It was such an innocent beginning to such a fierce and loyal friendship they all shared, and she could not ask for a more perfect relationship than the one she shared with Harry and Ron. 

Which is exactly how she understood the feelings she was experiencing for Ronald Weasley. He was her best friend, as was Harry. They've have been through so much, but always together, and together they stayed. She felt for Harry a strong love, yes, but she saw him as her dearly loved brother, perhaps as a younger brother, because she seemed to always take care of him as an older sister would. But for Ron... it was just her luck that the friendship love she felt for him had to be combined with desire and attraction, which resulted in her complete infatuation with him. His fierceness, his loyalty, his standing up for her had inevitably won her over, even if he could behave like such a prat sometimes. 

She was in love with him. 

She smiled at the ceiling when she thought this. True, she had admitted this a long time ago, to herself and to Ginny, but the tingling feeling in her back and her stomach was the same whenever she thought about it. She was in love. She was in love with a great boy whom she has been friends with for almost six years, and who knew her inside out as she did him. She was in love with a great boy who was turning into a great young man. She felt her heart breaking at the mere thought of living without him, remembering she almost lost him back on his seventeenth birthday. 

It wasn't just lust, she concluded, whenever she undressed him with her eyes. It was her desire to love him deeply, fully, as much as she wanted him to love her. 

With that thought on her mind, and a contented smile on her lips, she drifted off to sleep. 

That knowledge, however, did not stop her mind from playing passionate fantasies of the both of them together exploring each other lovingly and whispering promises to each other in a tangle of red sheets, or sand, or whatever surface, from then on. But by that time, she already managed to keep her temper and to not reprimand herself for fantasizing. She really needed to concentrate on their task ahead, but, after all, she was also known as a multi-tasker, so it was easy to take important notes of a book while daydreaming of red locks of hair and freckles and lean, strong arms and body... 

Days later, on Harry's birthday, all three arrived at the Burrow with the help of Tonks, who Apparated with Harry as she had with Ron. That very day, before Mrs. Weasley held a small but lovely reunion to celebrate Harry's coming of age, Mr. Weasley took both Harry and Ron to the Ministry for their Apparition tests. Hermione hugged Harry and kissed Ron on the cheek to wish them good luck. She happily saw how Ron's ears and cheekbones turned crimson and how one corner of his lips tugged upward in a small but so gorgeous smile. They both passed their tests. 

Her doom however, as she miserably called it, came two days later. 

Bill and Phlegm, er... _Fleur's_ wedding was set for August 16th, and the last preparations were being scrutiny made, as the wedding will be held at the Burrow, which Hermione thought, had always had a lovely backyard. She was somewhat surprised but glad, that Mrs. Weasley and Fleur's relationship had changed drastically since, well, since that horrible night. Mrs. Weasley hugged Fleur, patted her hand, conversed with her cheerfully, and worked together with her joyfully. Fleur had, apparently, demonstrated her love for Bill by standing up for herself, and Mrs. Weasley couldn't seem more proud of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. 

Unfortunately for everyone else, this alliance consisted in extra-hard work to achieve perfection. They inspected every little ornament, table, fork, and every other thing that could possibly go wrong in the wedding, and made sure to prevent it. On the day after Harry, Ron and Hermione's arrival, Fleur complained to Mrs. Weasley that some of the tables were a bit wobbly, which resulted in Mrs. Weasley waking and ordering at all three of them, plus Fred, George, to dismantle every table and be sure to mount them again in perfect shape. While this work was much easier with magic, they had to make sure every base of the tables were equally long and supported the table alright. 

"They were bad enough when they didn't get along, but now that they have _allied_..." Fred muttered scornfully, after having been rudely awakened at nine in the morning for this _relevant_ task. 

Hermione was having a nice time, though. It was so good, the feeling of doing something normal for a change. 

Luck was not on their side that morning, for the sun had apparently decided to show his light cheerfully on the day that they were to work outside for long hours. So you could find four disgruntled teenage boys and a serene but concentrated teenage girl working their backs off to make sure everything went perfect for a wedding. 

After George whined about why they got to work outside in the glaring sun while Ginny was working in the nice cool air of the kitchen, Harry suddenly hissed and swore, letting go loudly of the table he was working on and brought a finger to his lips. 

"Splinter," he said, when Hermione sent him a half-scandalized and half-worried look, and continued to treat his finger. 

_Really_ , thought Hermione annoyed, _he has got to stop reacting this way whenever someone says Ginny's name._

Even though she had promised Harry that she won't question him further about Ginny when she brought her up the first time, it didn't mean she was entirely okay with his decision. 

After that incident, Fred wisely announced that at exactly 11:42 in the morning, they have deserved a good long rest and cool refreshment. They all went inside the kitchen, and took the glasses full of chilled pumpkin juice Mrs. Weasley had prepared for them. The boys went to the porch to rest and enjoy the breeze, but Ron muttered something to Harry about clean shirts, and after Harry told him to bring one for him too, he gave him his glass and dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

Hermione was about to sit down, but Mrs. Weasley calling her stopped her. 

"Now, darling, be a dear and take these dress robes to Ron's and the twins' rooms. I want them to try on them after they clean up to see if they need any more changes. Let's just hope they don't grow any more, for Merlin's sake..." 

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione answered politely and gently took the dress robes from her. She went upstairs and quickly left Fred and George's robes on the bed nearest the door. She didn't really fancy something springing at her from the bedcovers or an empty shoebox. 

She hurriedly went further upstairs to leave Harry and Ron's robes, and found the door to Ron's bedroom wide open. She peered inside. 

Later that day, she could have _sworn_ there was some charm that made people freeze in their spot at the entrance to his room. Because that is _exactly_ what happened. She was suddenly gripping the side of the door with one hand while the other held a bit tightly to the dress robes and her mouth fell open slightly. 

_Oh, my...!_

The reason she was stuck in this uncomfortable situation? Oh, but what else? Or rather, _who_ else? The careless red-headed boy who just couldn't bother to close the door, so anyone that came passing by could just see him while he was changing clothes, was doing exactly that! 

_Oh, my God..._

In his small bed, there lay two clean t-shirts, a navy-blue one and a green one. How Hermione remembered this, not even she knew, for she didn't really remember taking her eyes off Ron. 

Because it was just _her_ luck that the minute she had reached his door he was just taking his shirt off. Really, only to _her_ these things happened! 

Being as she was frozen in place, she could only ogle... _stare_ at him, because she did _not_ ogle. She stared at him as he reached for the hem of his soaked Chudley Cannons t-shirt; she stared as he lifted it over his torso and shoulders, revealing creamy white skin with adorable freckles splattered over his shoulders; she stared at him as his head stuck in the t-shirt, and he cursed softly; she stared at him as he wriggled a bit to get it off, and turned his back to the door, giving her the chance to see his broad shoulders, which were also covered in freckles; and she stared at him, mesmerized, as he slowly wiped the sweat off his torso with the Chudley cannons t-shirt. 

She congratulated herself at finding that spell that kept the UV rays of the sun off the body, much like a sunblock would do; otherwise, Ron's face, neck and arms would have been horribly red and burned, as would the twins'. With a small smile on her face, she drank the sight of a beautiful, _shirt_ - _less_ Ron for, approximately, four more seconds. 

"Hermione!" shouted Ginny's voice. 

_Oh, for Merlin's...!_

Hermione quickly stepped out of her reverie, and before Ron could see her, dashed towards the stairs. Noticing that she was still clutching the dress robes, she spun around, only to collide with a tall and hard some _one._

Ron only managed to steady them both, keeping his hands on Hermione's upper arms. When they were both safely standing outside his room, she stared up at him, noticing he was wearing his blue t-shirt, _which fits him rather well..._

"Erm... are you okay?" Ron asked, without letting her go. She noticed his ears went red, and suddenly he released her. She felt the temperature go down a bit, much to her relief, as she was sure her cheeks were bright red. 

"Hermione?" Ron pressed, after she stared at him mutely for a few seconds. 

"Yes? Yes! I mean..." Hermione stuttered, deciding looking at his neck, which was pretty much at her eye-level, instead of his face. _He's got a perfectly lovely and nice neck, though_...

Before she could imagine herself pressing her lips softly against that extremely sexy body part of his... _oh, wait, too late..._ she started talking, in a very business-like matter, she made sure. 

"These are your and Harry's dress robes," she told him, handing him the packages. "Your mother wants you to try them on later, after you clean up, so you can make sure they fit nicely or do some changes if they are necessary." 

Ron looked down at the dress robes, grimaced, and inspected them. Hermione cleverly used his distraction to her advantage. Her eyes traveled over his chest, to his exposed forearms, which looked incredibly fit. Her stare was roaming lower when Ron's voice distracted her. 

"At least there are no more stupid laces... and they are not maroon!" 

Ron noticed Hermione's odd stare, and asked if she was not feeling well. 

Thinking quickly, Hermione saw she had only one way of not making a fool of herself. 

She faked a sneeze. 

"Oh, excuse me," she faked another one just for good measure. "There was dust, a little bit," she cleared her throat, "but I'm okay." Then she flashed him a bright smile.

"Alright then..." 

"Really, I'm in perfect shape." 

"Oh, I'm sure of that... I mean... er... if you're not feeling well, you can tell mum. She probably has some potion you can take." 

"Thank you, Ron." 

"Yeah, don't mention it," he said as he flashed his beautiful grin. 

A few seconds passed until Hermione stated that they must get back to work. She went downstairs with a grumbling Ron in tow, carrying Harry's green shirt. 

Later that afternoon, when they were counting the plates for the reception and making sure the tablecloths didn't have any loose threads, Hermione glanced up from her spot at the floor at Ron, who was just entering with a bunch of gold tablecloths and tossing them at Harry, then sitting next to him and across from her. 

She _really_ did not realize that she was staring at him, until Harry asked her if she was alright. Ron looked up at her and she looked down at her tablecloth, most probably blushing. _Damn._

"You know, Hermione, you should really ask mum for an anti-allergy potion. They taste funny but you'll feel loads better." 

Hermione looked up and thanked him again, assuring him that if her bothers continued, she would. After making sure both boys were concentrating in their respective task, her eyes searched Ginny, who was on the other side of the living room, stacking the plates and the cutlery. She was also looking at her, with a red eyebrow raised in worry. When Ginny noticed Hermione's red cheeks though, the red-head had to bite her lip to keep herself from snickering. 

_Great,_ she thought sarcastically, _absolutely fabulous._

... 

It was nearing four o'clock in the afternoon now, and Hermione was in no better state. 

She heard Ginny sit down next to her at the kitchen table, and roughly pull her shoulder back so she would sit straight and stop her actions. 

"Seriously, Hermione, you're going to leave a mark on the table." 

Hermione just rested her elbows on the table, and covered her face in her hands. 

"Maybe at least I'll lose consciousness for a bit. _Then_ I would stop making such a fool of myself!" She had already told Ginny the reason of her, ahem, _odd allergies._

Ginny snickered, but rubbed her softly on the back. 

"But you've seen him before shirtless!" 

"I have?" 

"You haven't?" 

"Can't really recall..." 

"Well, at least he didn't catch you watching him..." 

"Only just!" she screeched, looking up at Ginny and sitting straighter, "Honestly, it's a surprise I didn't start drooling... God, I'm pathetic!" She looked up at the ceiling. 

"You are _not..."_

"And, honestly, he probably did _that_ on purpose. Oh, this is ridiculous! Doesn't he have the decency to close the door while he changes? But _, oh no,_ he left it wide open so I could just walk by and drool over him, didn't he?"

"Hermione, _now_ you're overreacting..." 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! He thinks he has some _power_ over me, doesn't he? He believes that he can just turn me into a stupid fool who just can't stop staring at his gorgeous blue eyes and his lean and strong physique and at those delicious..." 

"Hermione!" 

Light, however, was keeping Hermione from hearing Ginny. She finally understood. Goodness, how could she have _not_ seen this before? After all her worries that there's been a problem with her, she finally figured it out. She already knew she loved him, but it wasn't until this summer that the _inappropriate_ thoughts had started. And _now_ she saw the light! 

It wasn't _her_ fault that _she_ had suddenly become some kind of drooling, blushing pervert. 

It was _his_ fault that she had suddenly turned into some kind of drooling, blushing pervert! 

_"_ That smug _prat...!"_

All those smug grins and sexy smirks he sent her way, all those brushes of hands and the way he leaned over her when she was sitting next to him, all those times he would do something that resulted in her having heated fantasies... _he was doing all that on purpose! That was his plan! He is trying to... seduce me? Oh, Merlin, he probably wants me to... to... to just jump on him and snog him senseless!_

"He wants to have the _upper_ hand!" 

Suddenly she grew mortified. That could only mean that he knew of her feelings. 

_Well, no surprise there, Hermione._ Sometimes she really disgusted herself. _You can be so blatantly obvious!_

Her inviting Ron to Slughorn's party; her going to said party with McLaggen because it was _blatantly obvious_ that she wanted to make Ron jealous; her attacking him with those birds after he snogged Lavender; her behaving horribly nasty to him while he was dating _Lav-Lav..._ _Ugh_. 

Her rushing to the infirmary after hearing that something was wrong with Ron; her looking after him; her helping him with his essays and work; her completely leaving behind all that hurt he caused her because she was so thankful that he was there, with her, _alive._

Hermione then wondered... _if he knows already that I'm completely infatuated with him, and he doesn't seem to care, but_ au contraire _, he seems to want to get closer, then that can only mean..._

A huge smile that was surely going to stick there for a while broke into Hermione's face. She turned to Ginny, who was staring strangely at her, and grabbed her hands. 

"Ginny!" she started excitedly, "I believe... I believe he might, you know, fancy me strongly as well!" 

Ginny's face comically changed from confused to shock. 

"Wha... you didn't... how could you _not_... ever since... I mean, years back..." She suddenly mirrored Hermione's actions from earlier and started banging her head in the table, muttering all the while about love making people stupid and such. 

Hermione stopped her friend and sat her back in her chair properly. "Honestly, Gin, you could hurt yourself," she told her friend, with that bright smile still on her face. 

Ginny just glared at her. 

Hermione frowned, and then raised an eyebrow. 

"But still... he wants to have the upper hand... hmmm... he believes I won't be able to _resist_ him! Ha! Well, Ronald Weasley, I can play that game too, can't I? Yes, I can't believe he doesn't know I have tremendous will power!" 

"Hermione! What in the world are you talking about?" Ginny asked her loudly, grabbing her arms and shaking her a little. 

Hermione smiled. 

"I'm going to show him, dear Ginevra, that not only am I able to resist him, but that I can also..." Hermione scanned the kitchen, making sure no one was around, before leaning towards Ginny and whispering in her ear. 

"..that I can also _seduce_ him" 

Silence. 

Ginny stood up suddenly, taking Hermione up with her. "Who are you and what have you done to our proper, sensible Hermione Granger?" 

Hermione just raised her eyebrows at her. 

"Ginny, don't you see? It is quite alright. He started this game, didn't he? So, being the sensible girl that I am, I will rise to the challenge, and the day that I let Ronald Weasley beat me is the day that hell freezes over!" 

Ginny simply stared at her, a blank look on her face. 

"But I must plan, you know, I can't go into battle without a good plan. It'd be foolish." 

_Think, think, think Hermione..._

"Ginny, would you mind if I borrow for a bit your _Witch's Weekly_ magazines? There must be some useful information there..." 

Ginny just nodded, biting her lip harshly, and trying hard to keep a straight face, completely failing. 

"Thanks," said Hermione, before exiting the kitchen and rushing upstairs. 

After a few seconds, Ginny followed her, but at a much slower pace. It'd be fun, she thought, helping Hermione with such a particular mission, even though they were talking about _her_ brother. 

Ginny smirked. 

_Perhaps Ron was right._

_Mental, that one. Completely mental._


End file.
